The Maid Cafe
by SaiRE00
Summary: Meant to be ElsenXReader. Based off a self-indulgent AU idea had. You're a college student who is secretly a restaurant blogger. You decide to one day visit a newly opened maid cafe, to see if the food is worth reviewing...and you find something. Unexpected. Rated T for safety reasons.
1. Chapter 1

**The Maid Café**

-Hello. This is SaiRE00 here.

-Um…so this was based on a rather self-indulgent AU idea of mine. Please don't take it seriously. Enjoy.

-Written second person, with no gender implied. If you find anything wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me. No really, please.

* * *

You heard there was a recently opened maid café here, so you came over to check it out.

At first glance the shop front looked rather simplistic, with a checkered shade-top over the front door. The windows were covered with dark-red curtains, so you couldn't see inside the café. However the café was not closed, the shop sign was still hung, saying "Open".

"…"

"Guess its time for me to see if the food is good."

You see, you're not one of those nerds who come to maid cafes solely to gawk at cosplaying catgirls. As a restaurant blogger it is imperative that any new restaurants should be sampled by you. Many people looked to you for your services in paying for favorable reviews for their business. Because of your identity you had to keep a low profile…

…which explained why you were wearing a baseball cap with a flu mask. It looks weird, you know, but it hides as much of your face as possible.

Take a deep breath. Let's go.

"Um…H-h-h-hello…"

You were greeted by the sight of a young man…wearing, out of all things, a maid outfit.

A young man in a maid outfit. He looked shy, around his twenties or so. The frilly dress fit him surprisingly well.

 _Am I seeing things? Wait, don't get excited. Remember we're here for the food, not-_

"Excuse me…um…h-how ma-"

"One. Just one." You reply quickly. Clearly your suspicious presence here perturbed him.

The young man led you to a table in a corner of the restaurant. "Um…please, have a seat." As you sat down you glanced at his name tag. It read Elsen.

Elsen fiddled with the hem of his dress nervously. "So…anything you want? To drink?"

"Water is fine."

"O-ok…" He scurried off to fulfill the order. While he was away you took a look around the restaurant. It was surprisingly cheery and bright. The restaurant was quiet, with the patrons eating their food in silence. The window to the kitchen was open. You could see the chef – a man wearing an apron over a baseball uniform – cooking. His assistant, a masked man, helped wash the dirty dishes. The smell of _yoshoku_ filled the air, making your belly growl. It was around lunchtime, after all.

You took off the flu mask and baseball cap. Each time you went out to sample a restaurant, you made sure to change your appearance for two reasons: it was fun to dress in a variety of strange outfits and you did it out of necessity, as said before.

Today you were wearing what you called your "Extremely Ordinary" outfit. Brown hair, a plain purple shirt with nine-point pants, and some sneakers. Surely no one would recognize you. You made sure to keep whatever selfies you posted on your blog consistent in appearance: which was to say, the persona running the blog was a smart businesswoman – unlike you. The real you was a college student, struggling to acquire a history major.

Opening the menu, you took a glance at the options. _There sure are a lot of choices…but for a restaurant like this…The best choice to test this restaurant…_

The classic maid food: an omelet.

"Here's your water…Is there anything you want to order?"

You look up to see the wait – whoops, maid – anxiously looking at you. Honestly, he looked like as though he was about to fall apart any moment.

"I would like the omelet." You said simply.

"Would you…um…like ketchup with that?"

"Please do."

"Is that it…?" You could almost hear the sigh in Elsen's voice. "Yes," you replied. "Ok…please wait for the food…"

You watch Elsen walk behind the _noren_ curtains leading to the kitchen. The cook appears to be expecting him and holds his hand out for the receipt. Elsen placed the receipt in the cook's hand and walked out. You quickly look away and pretend to be observing the entrance of the restaurant.

Taking out a notebook, you begin to jot down some notes about the restaurant. "Let's see…interior décor, service…" you mutter to yourself. "Only one waiter for some unfathomable reason…"

"Me?"

You nearly jump up in surprise. Elsen stands over your table, looking expectantly at you.

"No, no. I was just saying random things to myself. Don't mind me," you say. It appears that Elsen is interested in what's in your notebook. _And just earlier he was on the verge of fainting,_ you think. _I have to distract him somehow…_

"So, how's business here? Does it ever get busy here?" You ask. "Only during dinner," Elsen replies. "Its because of the weekday dinner deal we have here." He points to a poster tacked on the wall, reading "Combo Meal! Weekdays Only, Dinner Hour! Just $8.99!".

"I'll think about coming here during dinnertime. How does that sound?" Elsen's face beams up unexpectedly. "Yes, that would surely help. It will help business around us. After all…um…forgive me if I'm wrong but…aren't you the famous food blogger Paragon's Food?"

 _No way._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Maid Café: Chapter 2**

-Well, at least one person likes this idea of mine. Thank you to whoever it is. Sorry for the long wait.

-I should probably think of a new name for this Elsen (OC?) of mine. The one I like the best is Allie. Anybody disagree? Agree? (I'll change the name at some point.)

"Excuse me?" you ask. "I don't understand."

"You aren't?" Elsen asked. "Ah, then it was just me." You inwardly take a sigh of relief. It's shame that your denial disappointed the waiter, but you have to do what is necessary to protect yourself.

Elsen leaves your table and heads toward a booth across from you. This time he's talking to…a woman? You can't see her face clearly; her bangs cover her eyes. You observe her for a short moment. She's relaxed, happily laughing and pointing toward the window of the kitchen, at the chef. From time to time you can see the masked man looking up and waving at her.

 _Seems they know each other._

 _I wish I had someone to be friends with too._

Throughout most of your life you had few friends. College has not appeared to improve that count. After all, most of your peers are into majors such as math, science – you're the anomaly, it appears.

You hear a faint chime in the kitchen. Turning your head, you see that your omelet has been prepared. Elsen hurriedly runs to the counter, places the steaming plate onto a tray, and while he's running toward you…

…and trips over his feet.

Down goes the omelet.

Without thinking you leap out of your seat to catch the plate before it crashes onto the ground. While the plate is saved, the omelet definitely isn't.

"Hhhh…oh no…the omelet…" The waiter (maid?) is in tears over the omelet. You shift yourself over to face Elsen. "Shh, it's okay. Its okay. There, there." You give him a light pat on his shoulder. The sudden contact makes Elsen recoil. He looks at you with wet eyes, biting his lower lip.

 _Shoot, he's cute when he cries. Wait, why am I thinking this?_

You give a small smile to Elsen. "It's okay. I can always, you know, come next time." At this latter remark Elsen returns the smile. "Really…?"

Your smile widens. "Well…" Actually, you hadn't planned to come here a second time. But if it was to take advantage of an offer of a possible free meal…you might think differently. One never refuses a free meal.

"Then…how about a free meal? As part of your trouble." Elsen asks.

 _Bingo._

"S-Sure." You say. Elsen smiles again. "Okay, now we should at least remake the omelet." You can only nod as you make your way back to your seat while Elsen returns to the kitchen.

You watch Elsen from your seat. Now that you think about it, if you're writing a review for this restaurant – this makes this establishment the first one where you visited, twice. If you're really coming back for that free meal, that is. Which is likely.

While waiting for the meal, you take out your notebook – using your arm as a shield, in case the maid attempts to be, ahem, nosy again – and continue to write notes. Setting up a quick table, you write:

Interior-Design

Service

Well-lit, good for casual eating

One maid – seems nervous

Art on walls is still-life, traditional paint

Shy, but willing to socialize with patrons (it's a part of the job, after all)

Surprisingly quaint for a maid cafe

Establishment may need to consider hiring more workers if growth is continued

…You think you wrote more than necessary.

"Here is your meal." You close your notebook with a _thump_. A plate of steaming omelet is placed in front of you. It looks…plain.

Before you can open your mouth to politely thank the maid, he asks, "Would you like ketchup?" You nod once again. Elsen takes out a squeeze bottle of ketchup. (It's the kind one uses to apply frosting on a cake.) He carefully traces out a picture of a cat on the omelet. "It's done," Elsen murmurs as he bows his head and draws back.

You examine the caricature of the ketchup cat. Its not as idealized a picture as you expected – the cat has wide eyes and extremely point ears. Almost as if something had just frightened it.

Taking your fork, you take a small bite out of the omelet. As you chew, you register the taste of the omelet in your mouth. It tastes a little spicy, but its quite good.

You guess you wouldn't mind coming back here. But you should make sure to wear a different outfit next time…After all, you came here to review this restaurant, not to patronize maids here. If you started coming here and were seen as a familiar face, that will be a problem. Said problem will only grow if someone from college sees you here. You can only imagine the endless teasing. "Dude, did you hear about [y/n]? I heard they're into maids!" Just. No.

Those were your thoughts as you continued to eat the omelet.

 _Back at home._

You take off your shoes and place your bag on bed. In hand is the receipt for the meal, with the words "valid for one free meal" scribbled on the paper. Written by the maid himself. You find a pin and stick the receipt on the piece of cork you have above your table.

"Oh no," you groan. That history paper? Still unfinished. And its due tomorrow.

"Time for another all-nighter," you mutter as you pull out a chair and open up your laptop. The night drags on as you continue to work.


End file.
